Charismatic
by Watson124
Summary: Arthur tries to teach Merlin how to sword fight, confident that he will instruct him well. He never saw it coming. (Bad summary is bad.)


"But Arthur, Gaius asked me to water his herbs–"

"You can do that later." Arthur flung his words carelessly over his shoulder as he trotted on energetically. "This latest threat from the nearby kingdom means that you have to be able to take care of yourself, and I have be the one to teach you."

"But I already know how take care of myself," Merlin protested indignantly, thinking of his strange magic abilities.

"Oh, really?" This time Arthur stopped and spun around to face him. He had no idea that the forbidden abilities of magic came second nature to his manservant, and the aforementioned manservant wasn't keen on telling him. "Tell me, Merlin, have you sword-fought lately?"

"Sword-fought? No, but–"

"Have you won a tournament?"

"I haven't–"

"Have you successfully fended off enemy warriors?"

"I can't say that I ha–"

"My God Merlin!" Arthur looked at him in exasperation. "You've saved lives, my life, yet you still haven't picked up on the basics of fencing?"

"I, uh, haven't had to," Merlin responded honestly.

"Well, you're going to have to know now, in case our enemies makes a move." Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder and steered him into a secluded area, just out of sight of the town. The touch of his gloved hand was warm, contrasting sharply with the chill of the frosty morning. A cold wind picked up; Merlin shuddered slightly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed in concern, and his grip tightened just slightly. "Merlin? Are you alright?"

"Fine," Merlin lied, holding back a sneeze.

"Very well, if you're sure. This training should warm you up soon enough, anyways. Now, let's start." Arthur gazed at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. His breath was minty and comforting, and Merlin soon forgot the chill as they delved into the organized chaos of fencing. Arthur seemed to be everywhere at once, snapping scathing criticisms, which was just his way of offering friendly guidance.

"No, Merlin, faster!"

"No, Merlin, harder!"

"Stiff upper lip! I won't have any servant of mine being whiny!"

"Move faster! If this were the real thing I'd have you begging for mercy by now."

"No, you have to turn, and then thrust!"

Merlin groaned as he missed Arthur for the seventh time in a row. He stumbled to a halt, his exhausted body aching. The armor was too heavy and too tight, and it was too cold and too early to be doing this. Then he shook his head, banishing his mental complaints. He'd made it through worse than a sword fighting lesson. He could survive this. And this wasn't even a life or death situati–

"Uwah!" Merlin squawked in surprise as Arthur tackled him, startling him out of his thoughts. In less than a heartbeat, he found himself sprawled on the hard, cold ground with Arthur standing over him.

"Merlin, you've got to be more aware of your surroundings!" Arthur scolded, glaring down at him. "If you're aware, you've won half the battle."

"Then I guess I haven't won any of the battle so far, huh?" Merlin huffed, scrambling to his feet. He expected Arthur to agree, but instead the blonde merely blinked at him. "At least you're trying, Merlin. Most would have given up by now."

He held Merlin's gaze, cerulean blue meeting tawny amber.

"That's what I like about you," Arthur murmured, stepping closer. "Your perseverance is almost admirable." The cool, foreign sensation of his breath sent nervous anticipation shooting down Merlin's spine, and he suddenly began to feel warm despite the chill.

"Arthur…"

"Merlin!"

The next couple of seconds found a caught off-guard manservant lying on the ground again, gasping for breath.

Arthur huffed and looked away. "You have to be aware all the time, Merlin!"

"Sorry, sorry," Merlin responded, scrambling to his feet. "Let me try again," he requested.

Arthur looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes!" Merlin said, putting as much enthusiasm into his response as he could. He wanted to show Arthur he really could take care of himself. And he didn't want to use his magic, either.

Arthur nodded. "Very well." He got into ready stance and beckoned Merlin forward. "Well, what're you waiting for? Come at me!"

Merlin narrowed his eyes, sizing his opponent up. Arthur was very bulky, strong, and muscular, but that would put him at a disadvantage when faced when a smaller, lither adversary such as Merlin himself. In short, Arthur was stronger, but he himself was faster.

"Hurry up!" Arthur snapped.

Merlin sprang forward, but every muscle in his body was tensed in preparation to fall back the second Arthur made his move. That's just what he did, swerving away as the prince's sword came down a mere inch from his head. He spun away as the sword came at him again, using his own sword to deflect Arthur's. He kept up this little game of cat and mouse, flitting all around the prince until said prince looked so utterly confused that Merlin was able to take him down effortlessly. Finally, it was him standing triumphantly over Arthur.

Arthur got to his feet, looking more than a little dazed. "What was all that?"

"Just a little idea I had," Merlin answered smoothly, gazing at him.

The sun suddenly broke the tree-line, bathing the world in golden light and catching Arthur's eyes in such a way that they changed from cerulean to a dark, beautiful blue and turning his hair from the color of pale wheat to a dappled blonde. Charismatic… Merlin realized he was all but staring at Arthur. Or, at least, he thought he was, before the prince took advantage of Merlin's distraction and toppled him over yet again.

"Hey!" Merlin pouted, sitting up and scowling at him. "You're a prat!"

Arthur smirked. "Oh, really? I thought I was charismatic."

"How–oh…" He must have spoken aloud without realizing it. Merlin glanced away, wanting to sink through the ground with embarrassment. How shameful to be caught gawking like a moony rabbit.

Arthur just laughed, but it was an awkward laugh, not directed at Merlin but rather the situation itself. "I had no idea you thought so highly of me," he said. The words would have sounded smug, but his tone was quiet, almost subdued.

Merlin just scowled. "I wasn't calling you charismatic," he stated.

"Oh, really? Then who were you calling charismatic? The trees? That bush over there?" Arthur's smirk returned.

"No, I was, uh…experimenting," Merlin managed.

"Experimenting," Arthur echoed skeptically. "What were you experimenting?"

"How easily you'll fall for a compliment," Merlin muttered, feeling his face getting redder with each passing heartbeat.

"So you didn't mean it," Arthur clarified. His tone and countenance were neutral, but Merlin felt guilty nonetheless.

"I, uh, have to go," Merlin said awkwardly. He shot to his feet and began to hurry away. He successfully make it a full three and a half steps before Arthur grabbed his arm and turned him back. "No, stay."

"What do you want?" Merlin asked, hope rising in his chest.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"What does it matter?"

"It does matter," Arthur said earnestly. "It matters to me."

"Fine," Merlin said stiffly after a pause. He looked at the ground. "Maybe I did mean it."

There was a pause. He risked a glance at Arthur, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he saw that the prince was grinning. Not smugly or arrogantly, but genuinely. It was a smile that was all too rare for him, especially these days, and Merlin found that he–almost–liked it.

"So?" Merlin prompted after a moment of silence. "Say something."

"I'd say that you, Merlin," Arthur said, still radiating, "aren't so bad yourself."

Merlin knew that was Arthur's way of returning the compliment, but all thoughts were swept away when Arthur gave him a smooth, brief, one-armed hug. "I had a good lesson today," the prince murmured to Merlin, his breath tickling his ear.

"Yeah, me too," Merlin managed, still unable to process the fact that him and Arthur were actually hugging. Well, sort of. Arthur really could be sweet sometimes.

The prince drew back slightly. "Alright, enough of that. We'll go back to Camelot now, and when we get back I need you to wash my armor, sweep my quarters, and of course don't forget about watering Gaius's flower things…"

Arthur could also be a royal prat.

But the light in his eyes and the warmth of his arm around Merlin was genuine. And right now, that was what mattered.


End file.
